


Snap!

by wanderingsmith



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Bondage, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-12
Updated: 2008-08-12
Packaged: 2017-10-08 04:47:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingsmith/pseuds/wanderingsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PWP - What are a few bonds between lovers</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snap!

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: consensual bondage
> 
> Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd be daft enough to pay me for this. As it is thought, so let it be said: you make the toys, I play with them
> 
> AN: 1)The title is unrelated to the fic. 'twas a request on a day when I 'snapped'. 2)No this is not kinky. there is nothing wrong with a little bondage between consenting lovers

John kept his grin until strict control as the diminutive matriarch lead him through the opulently appointed chamber's door.  "Thank you, Lady Karell.  I'm pleased to see you took such good care of her."

The elderly lady nodded with a blank expression, "We *do* understand that foreigners are unfamiliar with our ways.  If she had not broken this particular law, we would have simply asked her to leave.  As it was, I did not intend to repay an accident with insult.  Especially since she cooperated most calmly.  This satisfied the letter of the law."  She nodded again and turned to leave, "We will expect you at the banquet in 4 of our hours.  I will send a servant in time that you may get ready," she glanced toward the centre of the room, "And on your vouched word, she may also attend."

John murmured slightly choked thanks and quietly closed the doors behind the woman before turning to face the large bed in the middle of the room.  In the centre of which lay Elizabeth, tied to all 4 corner posts and gagged.  And glaring at him with silent threat as he barely kept his peals of laughter inside.

He hadn't laughed when he'd *first* heard that Elizabeth had been taken prisoner.  Luckily Ronon had anticipated his reaction and grabbed his shoulder, roughly shoving him back down on Elizabeth's chair before he could start yelling at poor messenging Lorne.  And then the big man had said, *loudly*, that Teyla was watching over her friend and that the leader of the Amazon-like women had indicated she would continue to deal in good faith with Atlantis.

He'd still been simmering when they made it over and Teyla met him and reassured him that Elizabeth was fine and that she believed it would remain so as long as he didn't screw up.  Well, maybe *reassuring* wasn't the right word.  But with that threat keeping a constant crimp in his chest, he'd pulled out every damned scrap of skill he'd ever picked up and had watched every step and word he took, and had made it through the negotiations.  With the supplies they needed *and* Elizabeth's freedom.

Once he saw the deal signed he just about crumbled in relief.  And then with the terror gone, the hilarious idea that *he*'d rescued Elizabeth.  From *Amazons*.  That *everyone* had 'agreed' he should be kept away from...  was threatening to make him break out in laughs that would land him on the couch, or at least a cold, isolated corner of the bed, for a week.

On the other hand, it was a damn good thing Teyla had warned him of the conditions the law demanded -and that Elizabeth had *agreed* to- otherwise finding her like this would have made him furious.  He agreed that it was better than spread naked in midair in the dungeon -which was no doubt where *he'd* have ended up!-, but still.  Instead, he couldn't help appreciating the provocative picture she made as he walked slowly forward, noticing that the bonds holding her were a soft enough looking material and had been left with enough slack that as long as the person didn't struggle, they wouldn't be in pain.  Just held prisoner.  Spreadeagled on a bed.  Oh the irony!  Though again, how unfair that she got to stay dressed??  *She'd* get an eyeful if he'd... oh well, he wasn't complaining about this image of her at all...

Putting a knee on the bed just below one of her arms, he got the gag off first; there was no such thing as a comfortable gag.  "Gah!"  He watched in sympathy as Elizabeth worked her jaws and tried to work some spit into her dry mouth.  Been there, had the lip burns, he thought, his jaw shifting in remembered stiffness.

"You okay?"  The laughter was gone now, leaving only a little grin behind; he just couldn't help feeling bad for her.  He was a crappy negotiator; getting in trouble didn't particularly surprise him and he'd gotten used enough to the mild scrapes.  Having his life in danger was a bit more annoying, but what could you do?  Elizabeth on the other hand, was used to making everyone eat out of her hand and avoiding all potholes.  He must be a bad influence for *her* to slip up and get caught in a ridiculous local law.

"Oh just *fine*, John.  Just peachy keen fine," her voice was raspy from the gag and she was still glaring at his slightly twitching lips.  "Go ahead," she laid her head back with an exasperated look, "Just give me a sip of that water before you start rolling on the floor with laughter."

"Wouldn't dream of it, 'Lizabeth," he picked up the spouted 'glass' he hadn't seen while he'd concentrated on Elizabeth, "Though I have to say I'm hurt," he tipped a careful swallow into her mouth, still keeping from laughing somehow, "Looking at other men, Elizabeth?  That hurts, really it does."

As he put the water back on the bedside table, Elizabeth snarled at him, "*Looking*, Sheppard!  Don't pull that macho crap on me, you do plenty of *looking* yourself.  Hell, it was more of a *glance*!  The man walked into a roomful of normally-dressed people and he was *nine 10th naked*!"  When one chuckle escaped him, she gritted her teeth and narrowed her eyes at him, "Just *try* to look me in the eye and tell me what you would have done if a woman had walked into the same room as you, wearing a couple of straps for clothing, John Sheppard.  Just *try*."

John could see the humiliation she felt, all too familiar with it himself.  He got on the mattress and crouched squarely over her to give her a quick, loving kiss, "I'd have wondered where I could buy the outfit and what I'd have to promise to get you to model it for me," as she started to soften and smile he added, "'Course after having to rescue me out of the resulting incriminating circumstances, I counted myself lucky you let me sleep in the bed, that time."

By then Elizabeth was relaxing, the memories a warm balm to her embarrassment, "Your heartfelt apologies were very convincing." For *that* she got a serious, hot, open-mouthed, slow kiss.  When he lifted his head, his whole body was over hers, field-gear and all; her lungs kept free by his elbows catching his weight as he grinned softly, pleased with himself for cheering her up. 

Elizabeth smiled back, recovered from the chagrin at her diplomatic failure for the moment and shaking her arms slightly to catch his attention, "If you untie me, we could put this bed to better use for the next few hours..."  She watched as he mumbled an apology and quickly sat up, knees on either side of her chest.  Oh yes, definitely better uses, she grinned as she got a wonderfully familiar close-up of her lover.  This mission hadn't gone nearly as dangerous as it could have and was now back on track; that was worth celebrating, she thought as she slowly walked her avid eyes up John's body.  She finally felt his fingers touch her wrist softly and frowned up at him curiously when it wasn't followed with the knot being undone.  She blinked in surprise at the fleeting hint of.. had that really been lust she caught as a finger traced the tie at her wrist again?  Her voice was soft as she wondered aloud, "John?"

When he looked at her, her breath caught at the wide pupils he couldn't hide, her eyes inexorably pulled back down to confirm the diagnosis.  He hadn't been aroused when he sat up, and when she looked back up at his face, she could see the faint chagrined worry he was doing a poor job of hiding as he stood, or sat, like a deer in the headlights.

"You like this." The thrill of excitement that realization suddenly gave her had to be obvious; she could practically *feel* her own lust start to burn in her eyes.  Could hear the husk in her voice, "You *want* me tied up at your mercy."  The mission, the planet and everything outside the two of them disappeared as the air got charged with so much sexual heat that she felt her pulse jump.

"I.." he frowned uncertainly, fidgeting and breathing a little too quick as she felt him unconsciously stroke her tied wrist again.  Then he seemed to snap himself out of the trance, looking away from her and reaching for the bond on her wrist with suddenly un-conflicted movements, "You don't ha-"

"*No*."  It wasn't anything like a shout, more like her calm 'command voice'; her 'you will obey me and get your ass back to Atlantis *now* John Sheppard' voice. And he froze in automatic response, looking down at her slowly with a blink of surprise.

"Elizabeth?" The huskiness deepening his voice and the way his stance straightened, shifting into that somehow *larger*, more *there*, soldier's posture told her he guessed; or could read her as well as she read him.

She tilted her head, taking a last second to really judge her own mind.  She was surprised at just how.. calm?  Unafraid? *Willing*??  She was, and didn't want to mislead him if she was somehow fooling herself.

But no: she trusted him.  After 2 years side by side and almost 3 months sleeping together, if she couldn't trust John with her heart, body and soul... then she'd done something very wrong.

She relaxed, shivering at the lust rising in his eyes, in her body; her voice a breathless whisper, "Leave them."

John had to concentrate to keep from panting with the arousal sparking through him, the very idea that Elizabeth was willing to.. to give *him* such complete control, was almost enough to make him lose it.  And he couldn't.  Especially not now... Control was the *name* of this game.  If she gave it to him, he *had* to keep it; that was the compact.

He shifted his knees back down her body hesitantly, staring hard into her eyes; he had to be sure she really wanted this.  Somehow he'd never thought Elizabeth Weir would willingly put herself under anyone's dominance.  He'd been more inclined to wonder if being tied up himself would give him the same release.

But her eyes were wide with desire, not fear as they watched him.  Watching with rising eagerness as he carefully undid her uniform jacket. When the last hook was undone he stopped, taking a shuddering breath, "If at *any* time you want to stop, you say 'Sheppard'.  Okay?"  The fact that she nodded without arguing made him wonder if she *was* a little worried.. or if she knew about safe words.  Either way his voice softened, "I swear I'll stop."  His index stroked her bottom lip gently, his eyes closing for a second as her tongue came out and licked the side of it, feeling the pull of need arrow through him.  Feeling his focus tighten on the woman underneath him, pushing aside everything else in their lives; all the sadness and stress, all the danger and uncertainty.  All that mattered was Elizabeth. 

He kept his eyes locked to hers as he opened the flaps of her jacket as far as they would go and then slid his hands over the new tight cotton shirt he'd bought her.  A deliberately slow, possessive glide from her shoulders, over her breasts, to her waist.  And then he gripped the edges of the material at the last button; and pulled sharply.

Elizabeth gasped, shocked more by his suddenly tight muscles and sharp movement than by the tug on her arms and flying buttons -oh she'd have to tease him for *that*!-.  The chill air coming to rest on her skin raised goosebumps as John pushed the rags off her sides to join the jacket.  She looked bemusedly at the bits of dangling thread that used to hold the means to close her shirt, "I suppose I *could* just wear the jacket closed..."  She looked up at him and caught his smirk of anticipated amusement; he liked *that* idea too, did he?  She needed to find out from Teyla what those natives had worn a month ago when he'd gotten himself in trouble...  One of the Athosians was bound to be able to copy it for her... A half-open jacket over it and *she'd* have an entertaining evening...

John shifted down until he was lying on her body with his elbow on either side of her chest, reaching to undo the front closure of her bra.  With a quick grin at her, he took advantage of the proximity of her breasts and closed his lips on one aroused tip, starting to suckle gently through the material.  Her eyes closed and she gasped as heat and spikes of sensation gathered under his touch, more threads of arousal arrowing into her pelvis.  He switched to bare flesh when he undid the little hooks and just kept on going, slow and gentle.  By the time he stopped, she was completely aroused, moaning softly, her body rippling under his weight in frustration.

John sat back up, practising control to keep from obeying the silent demands of her body -*his* body!- rocking between his legs.  With forced calm, he undid his tac vest and dropped it over the side of the bed.  When he straightened, she was watching him, a look on her face that he had taken several weeks to get used to; it still made him grin foolishly though.  She didn't particularly like the vest because it always meant he was in danger, but the uniform... *that* she **liked**; and she wasn't afraid to show it now.  He leaned back over her, shifting his body to lie between her spread legs, careful of his boots but unwilling to fight with them right now.  As he let his lower body settle on her perfectly exposed crotch, her eyes closed on a moan, arms tightening in their restraint.

He hurriedly caught her elbows, getting off balance and momentarily putting more of his weight on her lungs than he wanted to, "Don't do that!  Don't pull or you'll hurt your wrists."  When she stilled, he brought his hands closer to his body so he could hold his weight clear of her.  "This OK?"  He waited for her to nod silent acknowledgement before leaning to give her a quick kiss.  "No stripping the uniform off *me* this time!"  He grinned into her pout, whispering with grateful pleasure, "My turn to play."

"Your turn."  Elizabeth refused to wonder what he would do with her, content to watch her soldier shift that sexy, uniformed body of his around, moaning with every move his lower body made on her clit.  He trailed hardly-felt, butterfly kisses down her cheek to her shoulder, teasing, sensitizing; making her shiver with awareness as she couldn't drag him closer; couldn't return the favour.  Could only wait, and watch him, watch the still-clothed shoulders and dark hair track moist nibbles down her pale, naked chest.  It was late in the day and she felt his stubble scratching at her tender skin, creating heat and marking him all the more as man.  The man who wanted her, cherished her; could and would do anything he wanted, or knew *she* wanted, to her.

What she *wanted*, was to touch him.  Feel that rough beard on her palm, slide her fingers into that mop of hair and feel him shiver as she petted him.  Instead, he was taking his sweet time mouthing the flesh of her breast, making her *feel* it swell, making her notice exactly where he was because the rest of her felt the air, un-warmed by his body.  From her fingertip, twitching without her bidding in the need to caress and guide, to her nipple, hard in anticipation.  When he finally got there, drew her hard into, by comparison, scalding heat, she cried out, head thrown back as for just a few second he suckled hard, pulling stiff the chain of arousal down to her sex.

Oh god he could make her come!  So easily!  Just a few more-  As he eased back and just kissed around the distended point, ignoring her cry of "No!", she could feel the shudders still shaking her.  Would have ground herself on the outline of his cock, except his hips were already pressing her down so hard she couldn't move.  Throbbed from the pressure but couldn't make him *move*!  His hands held her torso to the bed just as tightly.  No way to make the torture end.  It didn't take a genius, or someone who'd spent 3 months making love with this man to realize, now, exactly what he intended to use these restraints for.  Not as her body quaked deep inside, *needing* him to just continue what he'd been doing.

She was whimpering almost constantly as he abandoned her needy, hard, and now glistening from his mouth, nipple and continued his track down her belly.  "John.."  He bit gently at the soft skin over her diaphragm before looking up at her.

Listening to her cries of pleasure and feeling her muscles try to twist loose in his grip was feeding the need in him, making him even greedier to know that he could do this.  Could drive her crazy with just himself.  Giving him strength and determination to keep himself completely under control -something he just didn't always feel the need for.  But he could only drive her crazy if he kept his head.  In this state, could only keep her *safe* if he controlled himself.  And suddenly self-control wasn't a bad thing anymore.

He could guess he didn't look like himself when he met her pleading gaze, he sure didn't feel like his usual self, but she didn't hesitate, continued to try to get closer, to make him deliver the promised pleasure.  He wasn't going to, though, not just yet.  He checked to make sure she wasn't pulling at her bonds then grinned at her before getting back to licking and kissing the jumping flesh of her stomach.  Gently rubbing his cheek every now and then just to feel the tug at the net of whisker nerves under his skin; and to hear the extra little edge of pleasure in her cries... and see the reddened skin.  Indulging in a little possession of the usually masterful woman he loved.

When he reached her waistband, he was tempted to start the trip back up again, lose himself in tasting more of her sweet and salty skin, warm with arousal, scented with vanilla soap and a sheen of sweat from the long day.  The woman he loved.   Lusted for.  The woman who was indulging -enjoying!- his kink without hesitation.

But no, he wanted more of her available, all of her.  So with a last stroking touch, he gradually released her bucking body, giving her wrists a glance before catching her eyes in silent warning.  He wanted this; had wanted it for a long time; but seeing her hurt was unacceptable.

As he moved away, Elizabeth settled back, twitching and panting but letting him have his way with no more complaint than a glare.  When he laid one splayed hand firmly on her mound to hold her, his palm pressed right on her- What the!?  Even as she whimpered and shuddered from his touch, her eyes widened, seeing his other hand reach to his back for his knife.  He was still putting pressure right on her aroused clit and her thinking was foggy, but John reaching for a knife translated into danger in the room...  but then why wasn't he worried? 

Still holding her confused eyes and stiffened body, he quickly slashed through the bonds that held her legs, then slid the knife back into its sheath.  She knew, could see from the half-waiting, half-challenging look he was giving her that he'd done it deliberately, for the shock value.. but she didn't need to be reminded of his strength, was always aware of it.  Thrilled by it.  *Reassured* by it -even by the violence he was capable of.  She'd known for a long time that it would always be in the name of her protection and would never be aimed *at* her; not while he was himself.

So shifting her legs to unkink them, she gave him her best try at a sultry grin for his showing off; hard when she was still panting, watching him take his belt and thigh holster off.  The eyes that always automatically 'appreciated' his body were drawn to the very aroused penis held tight inside his slacks.  His hand had lifted off of her to undress, and with her legs free, her hips rocked up in unconscious invitation, staring at him as she licked her lips.  She was so aroused right now...  Wanted nothing more than a good hard f-

"Something you want, 'Lizabeth?"  Watching her watching him, her hands bound and extended, upper body bare and marked, breast swollen, nipples peaked, her hips inviting him; it was no wonder his voice was unrecognizably low and gravely, his body was so aroused right now...  He reached down with a hand and slowly stroked himself lightly, teasing her but keeping himself under control.  Which was no simple thing when she was doing that with her tongue... dammit.

With a growl, he reached for the fastenings of her slacks, ignoring the knowing grin she let peek out.  So yes, he knew what she could do to him with that mouth; but he knew a thing or two himself.  And *she* was tied up...  His hand slowed as his mind skipped and supplied him with an image of the reverse.  He'd never managed to stay still and take the pleasure from her for long... what restraint would she have to use to-  He shook his head with a deep breath, getting back to puling down her pants and underwear.  If she willing to do *this*.. maybe another night... he shuddered in wishful anticipation.

Oh yes, she definitely wanted something.  She knew what the flesh he'd been playing with felt like buried deep inside.  Was far too hot and throbbing right now, getting stripped naked while he sat there fully dressed; every inch her very arousing soldier.  Aroused; gorgeous man .  The edge of self-consciousness, buried under need as he crawled back up from her feet, staring right at her very wet sex, made her skin goosebump even while she felt the trickle of wetness slide down her vulva.

His hands slid up along her thighs until they rested on her hips, his dark uniform over her pale legs, the patch of Atlantis near her left knee.  Dark eyes staring into hers now, "Open your legs, Elizabeth," His voice was still far lower than usual, rougher; familiar, but different as she hesitatingly opened her legs back to their wide apart bound position.  This wasn't.. a new position for them.  But somehow the fact that he was fully clothed, that she couldn't touch -hold?- him, suddenly made her conscious of just how exposed she would be. He shook his head at her, making it obvious he knew what she was thinking, and wasn't relenting, "All the way," He nibbled at the joint between her pelvis and her thigh, "You want me to touch you.. don't you?"

He didn't *need* her to open any wider; this was just another part of the game.  Knowing that just didn't quite make it easier to fold her legs back on the bed and lay herself open though.  She was shivering as her thighs touched the bedspread, as air made the moisture coating her aroused, shivering pussy feel chill.  But then she lost the over-awareness as his eyes dropped from hers and he shifted forward, his hands still at her hips.  Instead, her eyes slammed closed on a cry as he put his lips *right* where she needed him.  And suckled; oh god *yes*!  But so slowly, she couldn't think.  Every draw of his lips brought her so close.. but never quite there.  Always releasing, and then pausing *just* too long!  Half aware of someone moaning and whimpering, of needing to move, to *make him*; of fire and frustration filling her body, and *damn it* she *had* to make him!

John's concentration was on holding her hips and legs; and holding himself.  She was whimpering his name in appeal, making him shudder with the need to answer, making his hips grind down to the mattress without thought, reaching for relief even as he strained to keep from just going crazy.  From suckling and nibbling and licking as she screamed with pleasure.  Not that Elizabeth screamed; she usually cried out breathlessly at the peak and-

Damn!  His drowning mind finally snapped aware of the changed direction of movement that he was restraining.  In a second, he was on his knees and gripping her forearms fiercely as he stared into her wild eyes, barely catching his breath, "No! Don't-"  But she wasn't listening to him, not really.  Her eyes had shifted to his tented crotch a foot from her face, and it was his turn to moan at the expression on her face.  But he couldn't, had to- "Hold on to the rope," He shifted the material so her hands could grip it, pull it without tearing the skin of her wrists -should have done that to start, damn it.  When her left arm tugged at the restraint again and her hand didn't hold on, he wrapped his around it, bringing her jaw up so she looked at him with the other hand, "Do you want to stop, Elizabeth?  You know the word."  He waited for her answer, knowing that he wouldn't really be disappointed either way at this point, that they were so close right now...

"John."  Her voice was a breathless rasp, but her tone was firm and her hands both tightened obediently around the binding.  Nodding acknowledgement of her choice, he shifted backwards again, stopping to kiss her.  Feeling her try to suck him in, draw his mind to a different route and distract him, he pulled his head back with a gasp, crawling the rest of the way down before his control eroded.  If they were going to do this again, he was going to have to improve his strength; Elizabeth was punching through far too easily.

With another shudder of arousal, he got back to holding her hips down, taking another look to make sure she was *holding* the bonds and then giving in to temptation.  Just a little suckling.  Just a little more.. sweet heavenly little sounds she made. There, *those*..  Ah hell, if *he* was moaning it was time to move on.  He pulled back and with stiff wipes licked the creamy coating on her fully-swollen lips, suckling on each in turn, shivering and barely controlled as she moaned his name.

Then he took one last look at her, from aroused sex to pitch-black eyes, and let go of her hips as he wrapped his lips around her clitoris, one hand gripping a cheek of her ass, the other coming up to slide two long fingers into soaked, tight shivering -or was that him shivering?- passage.  He barely noticed her legs wrapping around his head, too focused on where his fingers were as another part of him yelled at him for not taking his pants off.  And then as he flicked his tongue over her clit, it started pulsing and his fingers were held tight, fingertips just able to brush at the spasming walls, his lips sucking hard as he just managed to hear her scream, aware now of the thighs caging his head; covering his ears.   Of the hips trying to lift his head off the bed.

Now it *was* him shuddering. They were going to do this again. Even if he had to actually play dirty to arrange it; he needed to hear that sound from her again someday soon!  Needed to feel this close to her, this linked to her; this open to her. 

As her legs dropped back to the bed, he made himself ease up on her.  Changed to gentle kisses as his fingers continued gently stroking, hot and wet and still clamped in place.  Her satisfied little moans reflecting the way the muscles all around him were turning to jelly as he let her nerve endings recover, even as he felt sweat dripping drown his own too-tense body, felt the agony as his cock was held way too fucking tightly in his pants.  Control John; you're not a boy any more.

Still lost in the humm of pleasure filling her, Elizabeth felt the last of her muscles release the tension of pleasure, only shuddering lightly as his fingers slipped wetly out of her.  And *then* he lifted his head, meeting her half-closed eyes as he brought his hand up and licked it slowly clean.  Still in his uniform.  Watching her as though he wanted to crawl right inside her.  She didn't know what to expect now, was languorous enough to contemplate sleep, even as watching his tongue slide around cleaning his fingers made her body tingle, unable to stop the memory of pleasure.. until he slid *that* hand under her ass too.  And tilted her up and open. 

Her breath caught on a whimper as he leaned in again and proceeded to gently lick at her still swollen-with-arousal flesh, spread out just for him.  He was being so gentle and careful that at first she just moaned his name softly every now and then, her body still so loose and relaxed to do more than acknowledge her lover.  At least until he closed his teeth gently on the hood with its hidden bundle of nerves at the apex of her vulva. Then she gasped, tensing as he started to suckle gently, his hands fondling her cheeks in time to the suction.

John slowly increased the strength of his treatment whenever she could take it without jerking in over-sensation, then started flicking with his tongue at her clit.  Holding himself was heading toward impossible way too fast as he moaned, his body shaking, again barely able to hear her calling for him.  He sped up his movements, wanting her once again on the edge of orgasm before he gave in.  And as she just about jerked herself out of his hands, he pulled back, careful to lift his arms slowly so the legs they'd held down didn't fly up as she shouted his name with a frustrated edge.

She glared at him as he crawled up and came to rest on his knees right near her panting, hot, moist breath, undoing his pants without hesitation as she gave up the silent argument and shifted her eyes to watch avidly, licking her lips, making his fingers clumsy as he groaned.  When his cock was free from its restraints, he rested his hands on the wall to stay upright, then leaned into her reach, unapologetically demanding a blow job. 

Hot, skilled lips, flexible tongue, and the woman who knew what he liked better than *he* did... Come on boy, control control cont-  He barely kept his eyes open and watching -keep weight on knees, damn it!-, tracing her stretched arms to her eyes, challenging him to hold on, to the other stretched-out arm; as his body shuddered uncontrollably.  She was focusing every bit of arousal in his body into one tight, aching place; all the while watching him as he just about went crazy; barely keeping himself vertical, keeping from thrusting into her. 

He managed to last a few minutes (he thoughts it was a few minutes) and then rocked his hips back with a bitten back cry, sliding down until his body covered hers, capturing her lips, or being captured, since she was in his mouth before he could do it, a second before he slid his cock into her eagerly welcoming body with a sharp thrust.  Her arms tightened hard, hands still holding the ropes; her head would have snapped back if he'd released her from the kiss.  Instead he thrust hard and fucking fast, her ready-to-come body gripping him with every move, her legs wrapping tight around his hips so that she ground on him with every hit, forced him to used every muscle in his body to keep up the deep, fast movements.   And the pressure suddenly couldn't stay inside him anymore, exploding out in desperate, too-fast fucking and he was the one who had to pull his head back to breathe; to shout.  And then Elizabeth's body convulsed around him, and her sharp scream was cut off as a sudden vague pain managed to flit through the ecstasy filling his body.  Too vague to be cared about as he tried to listen to Elizabeth.  To feel her...  Elizabeth!...

When his dazed mind cleared, he realized he'd bonelessly dropped his whole weight on her and he was lucky she was still breathing.  He lifted himself, then grunted with pain as his shoulder muscle *hurt*.  When he looked at it, there was a mark that looked suspiciously like a ring of teeth.. and was going to be bruised as hell tomorrow; he grinned down at the woman panting now that her lungs were free, her eyes closed, her lips smiling; arms hanging loosely now.  Pulling out of her regretfully and getting himself to his knees with what felt like the last of his strength, he had to joke, "It's 'Bondage' I like, Dr. Weir, not 'Punishment'."  Her response was such an evil closed-eyed smirk that his fingers paused in undoing the knot at one of her wrists, the dawning realization that maybe the wicked teasing Elizabeth Weir always threw at him might be born out of a soul that had some kinks too -whether she'd ever let herself acknowledge them or not- making the connection he felt with her right then absolutely complete.

When she was free and he gently lowered her arms, letting her work the stiffness out in a controlled manner -tucking her bra, shirt and jacket parts around her loosely-, Elizabeth watched him lay down next to her with curious eyes, seeing remnants of amazement in his eyes as he stared at her, and speaking with a voice raspy from shouting, "John?  Did you really think I wouldn't be willing to do this?"

He shrugged self-consciously, lowering his eyes to her rotating shoulder.  He lifted a hand to massage it for her as he spoke slowly, "It's not exactly something I could just blurt out, 'Yeah, so now that you finally agreed to have a relationship with me, would you mind if I tie you up before we make love?'" he rolled his eyes, glancing at her quickly and smiling briefly when she chuckled.  He took his time continuing, "I don't.. don't *need* this.  Having you besides me, *with* me, is far more important."  And maybe the fact that their relationship had always included control issues, even after they became intimate, had given him some of what he needed emotionally...  "And.. let's face it, I can't imagine most women being willing to-" He couldn't finish, shrugging again instead.

Elizabeth turned her head, lifting her shoulder to bring his hands to her lips for a kiss, glad to see him look up at her, "Put themselves in your hands?  At your mercy?" Her other arm came around to stroke his scrubby jaw lovingly as she admitted with a grin, "Maybe not the first time, no.  But-" 

She stopped when he shook his head, cuddling his still-clothed body up to her half-covered one and wrapping his arms around her loosely, "But what?  It's not.. I'm not in the habit of bringing this up." he grinned self-deprecatingly, avoiding her direct gaze, "I only ever actually tried it twice.  And," He shook his head with a shudder, "It didn't cure my liking of the *thought*... but-" he stared at the rope hanging limp from the opposite corner, "Tying someone up, in and of itself, isn't.. remotely the point-"

Elizabeth leaned in and interrupted him with a soft kiss, barely touching, gently saying hello while she snuck a hand to undo his jacket.  When she finally got access to his chest, got to tug and comb the tuft of hair he was far too good at hiding, he pulled his lips back to chuckle, "You and that uniform..."

She grinned unrepentantly, "It's not the uniform, colonel, its what I know is underneath it."

He raised a brow and stared at her mock-seriously while she continued to stroke him from the top of his tee to the tip of his jaw, "Remind me not to let you design any uniform.  Ever."

Feeling the open flap of his pants rub on her thigh as he shifted reminded Elizabeth of what had led to this scenario and she had an instant Technicolour vision of John in that neo-slave outfit that had betrayed her.  Tied to her bed. 

As willing as she'd been to let him do as he would with her, it had never occurred to her that she could find it so instantly arousing to picture *anyone* in restraints.  Let along the man she'd sat next to in the infirmary a time too many after he'd been held prisoner...

"Elizabeth?"  She looked up at his husky tone, "Whatever you just thought of had better be restricted to our quarters..."

She reached up and stroked his lightly pouting lower lip, meeting the willing light in his eyes, "I think.. I understand the appeal of this," as she said the last word, she reached and closed her other hand around one of his wrists, "To have you wholly at my mercy, my responsibility.  To know you're equally focused on me."

John's breath stuttered as her eyes enclosed him as completely as her hand around his wrist; yeaaaah, he'd had a feeling this would work as well...  It took an effort to focus through the sudden shift in reality enough to answer her unspoken request for confirmation, "With the right person, yes.  With the wrong person you.. feel like a pervert, or a torturer.  It kills.. not just the mood, but the relationship." he thought about the second and last time he'd tried this, "Can kill your willingness to try to get close to people at all."

Elizabeth thought of the extra-relaxed expression on his face earlier, "So you.. 'settled'.  Made do without," she wasn't sure how to put it at first, frowning in concentration, "Without feeling fully connected to-"

He interrupted quickly, "I felt connected to *you*."

"But not to anyone else."

John pulled her close, tucking her head under his chin, sighing in comfort as her fingers went back to tugging with his hair, thinking of his epiphany as he released her, "No, not to anyone else.  Maybe somewhere at the bottom of my mixed-up head, wanting you got mixed with our authority arguments and established the connection.  I *haven't*.. been 'making do'.  This is just..."

"Ice cream on the brownie."

Elizabeth smiled happily when he laughed out loud, adjusting her mental recipe for a happy puppy.  Frequent sex and petting; and some padded handcuffs kept near the bed. 


End file.
